One Fine Morning
by Ivy Leaves
Summary: One fine morning, which begins in the usual manner and concludes in a not-so-usual manner, Lily and James speak of engraving. Well, and other things, but I can't spoil the plot (of which there isn't much) now, can I? Fluff abounds. Really should be PG, bu


            Lily Evans didn't really have much of a talent for waking up early, but this morning—surprisingly, because she had been up late last night—she managed to rouse herself from slumber before noon—

            --and was none too surprised to find herself in James Potter's arms.

            It wasn't anything new. She and James had been sleeping together for over two months now, and they were both lucky Sirius had finally decided to have some tact and hadn't interrogated them about why James was never at his flat anymore. Their friends—who, in an odd twist of fate, had never expected them to get together—were getting used to the idea, and they had eventually realized that it would save them the trouble if they Apparated over to Lily's flat to get James in the first place rather than bothering to go to James' flat. And Lily and James—well, they had learned to wrap the sheets tight around them before dozing off.

            The position, though, was all too comfortable. Waking up in James' embrace usually was. His arms were wound gently around her torso, one hand resting on her hip and the other bracing itself on the bed; his head tucked over and into the crook of her neck. Lily had entangled her own legs with his upon sleeping, and her arm stretched up to curve around his neck. Despite the tangle of limbs that may have looked uncomfortable, she was having a hard time thinking of somewhere she'd rather be.

            Using her free hand to trace patterns on his skin, Lily smiled to herself. No, none of her friends had expected it—although Sirius liked to joke about it—and come to think of it, she hadn't either. She and James were friends, but not best friends; upon him crashing on her living room floor one night after a party, they had engaged in an extensive snogging session. Whether alcohol- or will-induced, the next morning neither of them had found any regrets in their inner beings. And so their relationship had begun, and it had lasted, now, almost three months—a shock to everyone who had met James. They had expected it to be over within a week, because Lily and James were neither exactly alike nor complete opposites, two of the cliched and therefore "guaranteed" love stories in the making. But it _hadn't_ been over, and James _hadn't_ thought he and Lily should sleep together ASAP (as he normally thought), and gradually it had all boiled down to this:

            Love.

            Which hadn't been voiced before, but they both knew it was there. Without actually admitting it to anyone, including herself, Lily had fallen in love with him to the point where there was _nothing_ she had ever experienced that could rival this. She felt like she could walk a thousand miles and take on a thousand armies by herself, but the problem was, that would involve getting up, which she really didn't want to do right now.

            She tried to roll over, but found her arm's position was making that impossible. Smiling again—she found it hard not to, when James was around—she unhooked her arm from his neck, causing him to emit a soft, unconscious protest in his throat. She attempted rolling again, and managed, with awkwardness, and James stirred.

            Her breath caught for a second, then she shook her head. James wasn't a heavy sleeper, but he wasn't light; anyway, it didn't matter if he woke. She'd end up with good-morning kisses anyway.

            He cracked an eye open and looked at her. Lily pushed herself towards the head of the bed an inch  or two so she could look him in the eye.

            "Morning, honey."

            James groaned, fighting sleep again, and buried his face in her shoulder as if it were a pillow. She kissed the nape of his neck, and he murmured something it sounded like he had thought a lot about, from the tone of his voice. But it was still indecipherable. James wasn't very talkative the first few seconds after he woke up, though Lily had discovered, through a series of experiments, that the connection of mouths didn't care about that particular trait.

            "What was that?" she inquired. James mumbled again.

            "Eshluveshku."

            "Sweetie, I still can't hear you." James heaved a sleep-ridden sigh and pushed himself up on an elbow, taking his head away from her shoulder to say a third time,

            "I love you."

            Lily stared at him for a moment, and then a slow smile spread itself across her features.

            "I love you too, honey." She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, and he didn't seem to mind one bit.

            "Wait, though—I wasn't done." He pulled himself away and, with more difficulty, considering he was balancing himself on an elbow, cupped her face in his hands. Lily made a small noise of argument and tried to push to kiss him again, but he resisted.

            "No, this is important—I do love you…"

            "Yes, and I love you too. I believe you, and you… believe me…?"

            "I _do_ believe you!" he insisted, and Lily was shocked to see his eyes welling up with tears. Her stomach plummeted. "And…"

            "Don't you _dare_ break up with me, James Potter." Lily narrowed her eyes menacingly. "You _can't_. We've been together three months, and you _can't_ throw us away. I love you, and you say you love me and—"

            "I _do_ love you," he whispered, stopping her in her tracks. "I said it three times, and _listen_ to me. I've just never done this before, and…"

            "Don't break up with me. Please," Lily pleaded hoarsely.

            "I wasn't going to—"

            "You _were!_"

            "I just wanted to know if you wanted to marry me, Lils, I'm _sorry_ if you won't listen to me when I ask!" he exclaimed, dropping his hands from her jaw and sitting up. "You know, if you don't want to listen to me, then maybe I won't even propose, and maybe you don't even matter—except you _do_—and we can just go _on_ with this relationship and never get anywhere because you won't just let me talk, and we can die an old maid and a bachelor still dating and sleeping together but never marrying or maybe you'll dump me because you don't think I'm interesting enough, or—" He stopped as a small hand gripped his elbow and the redhead he _loved_, tangled among the sheets, smiled shyly up at him. _Shyly_—well, there was something new, for Lily was never _shy_, and—

            "Yes," she said. He blinked.

            "What?"

            "Yes, you buffoon, I'll marry you, and gladly, but if you don't get back into this bed, I might reconsider!"

            He didn't need her to say it again. He slid into bed quickly and began to kiss her, on her forehead, on her cheeks, her nose, her ears, her chin, her collarbone, her chest, her _lips_ – everywhere he could think of. Lily giggled lightly, and James was struck by how he normally hated it when girls giggled like that, but he _loved_ it when Lily did.

            "So?" she asked, after a particularly lovely kiss happened along her mouth.

            "So… what?" James looked up from his devotions to crease his brow in confusion.

            "Am I the first to know of this? How will we tell our friends? When are we getting married? Where? Who will we invite? How much money do we have to spend on this? Will I get the best dress in the world? And the best wedding night, I'm sure you'll make that happen just perfectly? Where will we go on our honeymoon? Do you have a ring—engagement, wedding, both, neither? Shall our invitations be engraved?"

            James' mouth fell open, and he gaped at his effervescent new fiancee.

            "You need to engrave invitations?" he asked, mouth still agape. Lily laughed and threw her arms around his neck.

            "Merlin, James, I _adore_ you," she whispered, pulling him down into a searing kiss.

            "But, to answer the questions—" he said after a while, pulling away, "yes; soon; not immediately; whereever you want, but not in a cow pasture; everyone we know and like; enough, I'm sure my parents will chip in, and yours; yes; I'm _sure_ we can manage that"—this was said with a particularly wolfish grin, at which Lily laughed again—"somewhere exotic; I have an engagement ring, except… I left it at my flat…"—this made Lily laugh harder—"and if we're supposed to engrave invitations… I don't know what you engrave _on_ them… then we shall engrave them, or have someone else engrave them, or whatever you're supposed to do. If you want engraved wedding invitations, we will have _engraved wedding invitations_!"

            His fiancee was now a limp pool of laughter and smiles and adoration.

            "What's the ring look like?" she asked, regaining control of her vocal chords.

            "Well, it's got a gold band… and it's got a ruby… and it's got two diamonds… but neither of the jewels are big, I couldn't afford _rocks, _really… I'm sorry…"

            "Oh, darling, don't be." Lily wiggled her fingers and looked at them carefully. "I don't think I could support rocks anyway, and I _don't_ want them. I don't even care, it can just be a plain gold band… I love _you_, darling, and that, right now, is all that matters."

            "Oh, good. I was worried that the proceeds from my flat would have to go towards a bigger ring for you."

            "So you're moving in with me, now?" Lily asked.

            "I should have a long time ago. I won't pay any more rent than I need to."

            "I'm glad you're so anxious to be with _me_."

            "But ahv _courze_, dahling, what else _eez_ there?" James inquired in a bad French accent. Lily sighed, shook her head, and decided all frustrations could be voiced in other means of communication.


End file.
